Sweet for Me
by Airavata
Summary: Post Season 12. The Waitress is now a fixture in Charlie's life, only Charlie is finding that it isn't all what it was cracked up to be. Once again he flees to Dee's apartment, and the two of them soon find themselves sharing more than just a room.


**This is just going to be a two-part story carrying on from Season 12 plot in "Dennis' Double Life". I was inspired by the excellent Chardee writings here, and thought I would give it a go! Thanks for reading.**

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 **PART ONE  
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Three cats stirred on the rusted remains of the fire escape, arching their backs against the Philadelphia night skyline. Charlie sat on the edge of the futon, taking relief from each pass of the fan. It was too hot for thoughts.

But still, here he was, mulling over some amber liquid swirling in the cracked glass in his hands. He drew a long swig of the whiskey, trying his best not to glance at the dozing form under grey sheets beside him. It was a scene taken straight from Charlie's fantasies over too many years obsessed with her, but for some reason glancing at the Waitress now made his stomach as twisted as the sheets wrapping her tight.

Charlie rubbed his tired face hard, frustration pulsing into his temples. He had hoped the whiskey would have brought on sleep, but still here he was, wired and awake. It was just hard making sense of it all: somehow the Waitress had gone from loathing the very sight of him two weeks ago, to becoming as much a fixture in his apartment as the audience of cats at the window. All because of his stupid pregnancy ruse. Since that first day, he and the Waitress had somehow fallen into a nightly routine: she would doze off next to Charlie, then he would crawl off the futon and curl into an old worn blanket on the ground, where he would toss for hours until exhaustion finally took him. Luckily she didn't notice - or if she did, didn't care.

Charlie exhaled hot air. A spring heat wave had transformed the city into a stagnant fog, turning the scent of old trash in the nearby alleyway sickly sweet. Normally it wouldn't bother Charlie, but tonight it was making his stomach churn. Ever since waking up that first morning to this new routine, a knot had begun to form in his core that had since grown into a constant, curdling ache. His hands tensed around the glass in anticipation of tomorrow, where he would be met by a new list of demands to prepare for the pregnancy. _If she even is pregnant,_ Charlie thought _._ Hell, with all the time he spent around noxious chemicals at the bar, maybe he couldn't even knock her up, he considered with a glimmer of hope. That thought brought on a new ache wracked with guilt, making Charlie groan aloud.

Glancing out the window, Charlie locked eyes with a stern orange tomcat. Its tail flicked and curled, yet it seemed holy uninterested by the sudden attention. Charlie's neck and face grew warm with envy. _To be that creature,_ free to sleep soundly at night, free from a routine that was slowly turning his insides out.

Two paint cans sat on the floor beside the futon, leering at them both. According to the Waitress, they would finally be painting the walls in the morning. Charlie grumbled something and kicked toward the can, accidentally knocking it over. He took strange pleasure in seeing it roll under a table and out of sight. Why did he have to paint? They were _his_ damn walls. He and Frank liked them just how they were.

Just then, those walls – those green, grey, unsure what color they wanted to be walls – began to swell and throb in Charlie's tired brain. With each pulse, the nausea in his gut grew worse, until he couldn't stand it any longer. Charlie stood up, tossed on a shirt and shoes, and then grabbed his jacket off the table. Charlie left those walls and his sleeping Waitress behind, sending the audience of cats scattering with a loud click of the door.

~o~

Dee Reynolds groaned and tossed over, kicking the hot tangle of sheets to the foot of her bed. A drunkard was cursing a string of profanities outside her window _again_ , keeping her from drifting off.

She hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks, thanks in part to these rowdy drunks, but mostly due to having her home invaded night after night by her so-called friends, brother, and supposed father. After weeks of them staying over, she had finally grown the nerve to kick them all out. _They can sleep in the gutters for all I care,_ she thought as she rolled over onto her side _._ Dee found that she could sometimes lull herself to sleep if she simply fantasized about moving away from those idiots and starting again, so she closed her eyes and tried just that. As her breathing slowed, Dee pictured herself at the wheel of her green Chevy, the Philadelphia skyline growing smaller and smaller in her rear view mirror. The wheels kicked up dust that smelled of all the future roads to take, roads free of their bullshit and cruelty, and after a few minutes, sleep began to spill over her in lovely waves. Dee found herself sitting under a large maple, shielded from the harsh sun. The smooth branches swayed and rocked her deeper into darkness... until the darkness was pierced by four loud, intrusive knocks. Dee inhaled sharply awake, and was once again back into her room.

 _Please be in my head,_ she pleaded as she flopped onto her stomach. Squeezing her eyes shut, Dee tried to return to those peaceful leaves, but once again a knock at the door rudely interrupted her fantasy.

"Goddammit," Dee groaned, sitting upright and blinking away bright glare of her clock.

Dee pulled herself out of bed and brushed the mess of hair out of her face, when a small tendril of ice of crawled up her scoliotic spine. Who would be coming to see her at this hour, in this bad neighborhood? None of her friends knock, they just try to barge in. This must be something _else_.

Dee inched her way into the dark hallway towards the door, making sure to turn on every light she passed. She reached for the door handled but hesitated, instead grabbing a heavy candle on the nearby table and pulling it close to her chest. Drawing a deep breath, Dee opened the door ajar and peered through.

"Oh." Dee frowned, immediately letting her hand armed with a candlestick fall to her side. "Charlie."

"Hi Dee," he smiled at her through the narrow gap in the door. Charlie stood there in a black tee with his army jacket tucked under his arm, looking slightly more sheepish than usual.

As Dee closed the door to slip off the security chain, all lingering fear was immediately flushed out by hot annoyance. _"_ What the hell do you want, Charlie?" She snapped as she struggled to remove the chain latch, "It's 2 am, for Christ sake!"

"How's it going?"

"How do you think its going? I was trying to sleep and you woke me up!" she barked. _That's it,_ _I'm moving away from these assholes tomorrow. Changing my number. It's decided_.

Dee swung open the door wide in frustration, and Charlie looked her up and down, raising his eyebrows. "Nice shorts."

Dee suddenly became aware of her attire: tiny bike shorts-turned-pyjamas that hitched at the sides, a light camisole, and the fact she wasn't wearing a bra. _Was he checking her out? The nerve!_

"Shut up," she growled, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. "Why are you here?"

"What are you doing now?" Charlie asked with an air of obliviousness, as his eyes moved beyond her to her apartment.

"What do you think I'm doing? Trying to sleep!"

"Oh. Okay, cool, cool." He mumbled, scratching his neck. "Wanna hang out?"

"Hang out? No, Charlie! I do not want to _hang out_! It's two!" she snapped, aghast. "Go home!"

"Right. Uh… is Frank here?"

"What? Frank's gone…I told you earlier that I finally tricked Artemis to let him stay with her," she replied, but Charlie didn't seem to be listening. His eyes scanned around the door frame, not meeting her gaze. There was an agitated flurry about him, and she knew that frantic side to side shuffling too well. He was hiding something.

"Charlie, what do you REALLY want?" Dee sighed. She hated that she knew each change in his posture, the melodic shifts of his voice, the way he held his hands when nervous so well after so many years. She could read him better than Dennis.

"Um…"Charlie shrugged his shoulders, his voice rising slightly in pitch. "Dee, is it okay if I just crash here tonight?"

"What? No!" she gaped, shaking her head furiously. "I finally got rid of you all! And you have your own place. No!" she's spat out again.

"Oh," Charlie replied, his shoulders slumping. "Oh, okay."

As he stood twisting his hands in that _oh so familiar_ way, looking somehow smaller than he was – if that was even possible – Dee's chest constricted with something that felt like pity. She leaned her shoulder against the door frame. "Alright, what's up Charlie? What's wrong?" Dee frowned. "Did that bitch kick you out of your own place or something?"

"No, that's not it," Charlie sighed. "And she isn't a bitch, Dee! It's… I just need a night away."

"Really?" Dee frowned. "I thought having the Waitress there was your dream come true." Dee heard a strange shrillness in her own voice as the last few words came out.

"Yeah." He looked to the ground with a half laugh. "Some dream."

For a moment the two stood watching each other in silence, divided by the door frame and the thick, hot air.

Charlie shrugged again, still keeping his head low. "Nevermind then. Thanks anyways Dee, I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow." He turned to leave down the long hallway punctuated by flickering yellow light, and for a brief moment Dee caught his gaze. She was met not by his normally carefree eyes, but by deep wells flooding with worry.

 _Damn you Charlie_.

"Hold on!" Dee groaned, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to look at her, uncertain.

Dee's shoulders slumped, defeated like usual. "Ugh, _fine._ " She spun back into the apartment and left the door open behind her.

Yeah?" Charlie's face lit up with his first smile that night, and left the hallway to follow her into the apartment. "Great!"

"Yes. But just for tonight." _Though it probably won't just be, she grumbled to herself. It was never one night with these dickheads._ Why was she the one who always had to fix their problems, sooth their wounds? _It wasn't fair._

"Thanks Dee!" Charlie beamed.

In spite of her annoyance, at the sight of that big, sweet grin, Dee couldn't help but smile herself too.

"You know, you owe me big time. I'm keeping tabs," Dee half-joked as she began searching her cupboard for a spare sheet and pillow.

"Sweet Dee, you have _no_ idea. I've got you back. How about a cat? The Waitress wants them gone this week. I can get you _loads_ of cats."

"No, I'm good for cats, thanks," Dee's replied, though her jaw felt suddenly tight. Perhaps it was due to the mention of the Waitress. Ever since that tart had seduced Charlie two weeks ago, even the thought of her made Dee's skin boil with something akin to anger. Whether it was due to that that woman upsetting the balance of the Gang, or from some lingering resentment towards that woman being so insufferable, Dee couldn't say. Dee would never see what Charlie saw in her. _That bitch._

Dee shook the thought away, and continued looking for things for Charlie as he watched on his innocent curiosity. After a moment he reached into his army coat and drew out a small dented silver flask, taking a quick shot before stretching out his arm to Dee across the loveseat.

"What? Now you're drinking too?" Dee berated him, but that didn't stop her from accepting the flask and drawing two long swigs. The warm liquid burned all the way down from her throat to her belly, causing her to involuntarily tremble. Hopefully this would help with the sleep. After the initial sting, a pleasant smoky flavor stayed on her tongue, a taste that would forever be associated with Charlie. It would always taste of late night B-movies and long afternoons behind the bleachers instead of class, many moons ago.

After she enjoyed the shiver of the liquid numbing her bones, Dee retrieved a second pillow from the cupboard and tossed it to Charlie. "Great, thanks!" he smiled, then plopped himself down on the small couch with the pillows and sheet.

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't tell those boners you're staying here and give them any ideas."

Charlie hummed in agreement as he began adjusting the grey pillow to fit into the couch corner, before kicking off his shoes.

Dee turned off the lamp and left Charlie to his own, but stopped at the doorway to look at her friend. Charlie had already curled himself into a ball on the loveseat with his knees almost pressed against his chest, his eyes already closed. She wrinkled her nose at the sight. Even for a smaller man, he looked so cramped. It was hard to believe the two of them had slept beside each other on that couch that first night when Charlie escaped the Waitress.

 _I_ _could have left him alone on the couch that night,_ Dee thought to herself _. That just you're stupid self Dee, once again too weak and pathetic to say no._ She could have returned to her own bed and kicked Frank out or even endured his horrid snoring, or she could have even grabbed some blankets and slept on the floor. Hell, it would have been more comfortable than her long frame being squished between the back of the loveseat and Charlie's sharp elbow, his chin digging into her shoulder, his soft breath warming her collarbone….

Dee cringed and shook away the pleasant image. _No, I chose to stay on that loveseat with him because it was just easier than finding another spot or waking Charlie._ However, it had been so long since she's slept next to a man that wasn't her brother or Mac, and it has been _so_ hard to leave that warmth at her side…

Dee darted back to her room to run from the invasive thought, and dropped onto her queen-sized bed. Charlie would be fine. However, as she sprawled across her soft mattress, she recalled how hard it had been to lie on the loveseat with the couch arm digging into her neck at an awful angle, and how her knees had been stiff for days after. Her poor, fragile spine still hadn't fully recovered. After a few flips and turns, Dee groaned and struck the mattress with her fist. "Goddammit." _Why can't I let myself have one night of peace? I'm a glutton for pain._

"Charlie?" she called out, to no response. "C'mon Charlie, you can sleep in here," she repeated louder.

"Naw that's ok, Dee," he mumbled through the sheet, "This is fine, I've got more space than at home with Frank."

"Don't be stupid, just get in here. That couch is terrible."

"But it's—"

"Just get your ass in here!"

"Yeah? Alright...Thanks!"

Dee heard Charlie tumble off the couch and lumber through the door, yawning. Dee drew a deep, resigned sigh. Those branches and the warm sun of sleep would have to wait. Now she had a night of Charlie to contend with, and if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that it was anyone's guess what that might entail.

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 _ **To be continued...**_


End file.
